


Gone Fishin'

by Mitch



Series: Stalker Pete and the General [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 10:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12839232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mitch/pseuds/Mitch
Summary: General Jack and Stalker Pete are left by their loves to spend a day fishing. They bond in the typical non-communicative fashion men are most famous for. Then they discuss symbols of love.





	Gone Fishin'

**Author's Note:**

> Second in the series of three stories

Pete pushed the heels of his feet against the grassy bank of the lake and rocked back in his lawn chair. The sun moved out from behind the tree branch over his head and proceeded to try to boil his brains.

"Beer?" Pete asked as he struggled out of the chair and sauntered to the cooler chest a few feet away.

Jack grunted assent.

Pete juggled the fishing rod from his left to his right hand, and then flipped open the lid of the chest. He swished frigid ice water back and forth, fishing around for an amber bottle. He hooked two, nestled them between his fingers, and reeled his catch in. Then he booted the lid closed. He trailed line on the ground as he moved to hand over one of the bottles.

Jack grunted. Pete nodded, acknowledging the minimalist version of a thank you. He returned to his chair, scooted it a foot left into the shade, sat, and propped the butt of the rod in his crotch. Then he twisted the cap off his beer. Tipping the bottle slowly he savored the flavor that slid down his throat.

An hour later Jack was the one kicking the lid closed on the cooler. Pete managed to form a solemn thanks before turning all his attention to opening the bottle.

Only a half hour ticked by before Pete was at the cooler chest. Fifteen minutes later those beers were devoured and Jack rummaged in the cooler.

"Last two," he said, handing one to Pete.

"Mmm," Pete replied, and swatted at a mosquito that had managed to find an inch of un-bug-repellent-coated flesh on his arm.

Soon, with a cooler full of empties swinging between the two men they strolled back up the gentle rise toward the cabin. Balanced on the top of it was a small plastic container, its top still firmly sealed with a retailer's sticker.

"Whaz'at?" Jack asked.

"Oh. Worms," Pete said.

"Wha'for?"

"Sam got 'em for me yesterday at a local bait shop."

"Gonna unseal it?"

"Oh. S'pose I should, eh? Before she gets back and sees it."

"Might be smart." Jack set his side of the chest on the ground.

Pete lowered his half of the chest and laid his pole down. He snapped the seal across the top of the container, reading it as he did. "Thousand Lakes Wrigglers. The worm of choice for the real angler."

"Now, that's love," Jack said. "A woman buys you worms? You gotta know that says LOVE."

Pete tried to hold back his grin, but it slipped out. Then he met the general's eyes and saw merriment there. The two were breathless with laughter by the time they reached the cabin.

An hour later, they had hamburgers grilling and a big jar of tea almost finished brewing in the afternoon sun.

"When're they supposed to be back?" Pete asked.

"Half hour ago."

The rumble of Jack's old Willis jeep greeted the two men as they turned toward the road.

"Hi guys," Daniel called as he swung from the driver's side door.

Sam alighted and followed along to the picnic table by the cabin. "Are we in time for a fish fry?"

"You're in time for grilled cow," Jack snapped.

Sam smiled and ducked her head. Pete took her hand and got a quick kiss on his neck.

Daniel sat a large parcel on the table, and then proceeded to open it.

Jack peered over his lover's shoulder, a plate of burger patties in one hand, and a spatula in the other. "What'cha got?" he asked.

"We would have been here sooner," Daniel explained, "but it took us a little longer than expected to pick this up at the Fed-Ex office. I was expecting it yesterday, but customs took an extra day to clear it. All the way from Dublin, Jack. I hope you like it."

"Packing material, Daniel? That's all I see." Jack skeptically eyed the mound of growing Styrofoam peanuts on his lawn, and then put the burgers and spatula on the table.

Sam stood by the table. Pete stood against her back, his arms wrapped around her waste. He propped his chin on her shoulder.

"Have some patience," Daniel told Jack. Finally, Daniel extracted a carved figurine. It was black, and about ten inches tall. Daniel held it out to Jack, but the man made no move to take it. "It's your birthday present." He beamed at his silent lover. Daniel put it on the table, and continued to smile at Jack. "From me to you," he clarified, still getting no response.

Jack stared at the object, his face a blank.

"Early birthday," Daniel added.

"It's a . . . a . . . " Jack looked up at his lover, then down at the object, still making absolutely no move to approach the figure.

Pete, still behind Sam, squinted at the object.

"It's very old," Daniel said, as if justifying the object. "Very."

"It’s a . . . What is it?" Jack asked, keeping his distance.

"It's a carving of an ancient Celtic minor deity. The god of . . . of fierce . . . manhood." Daniel rotated the object, making the sun bounce off the figurine's enormous balls and jutting, eight inch, mace-shaped phallus.

Jack lifted his eyebrows, and took a little step backward.

"If a three inch worm means I love you," Pete asked the general as he pointed at the figure, "what do you think that means?"

End 


End file.
